


Better

by mistleto3



Series: Yatamoto [2]
Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Plot With Porn, Sarumi mention, Smut, Winter's Kamamoto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-05-28 11:32:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6327256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistleto3/pseuds/mistleto3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kamamoto attempts to comfort Yata after Fushimi leaves Homra.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Comfort

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EmeraldWaves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldWaves/gifts).



> This story can also be found on [Tumblr.](http://mistleto-3.tumblr.com/post/141513820309/better)

Rikio was beginning to worry; Misaki was supposed to have showed up at the bar an hour ago, and he wasn’t answering his phone either. Misaki hardly ever fell ill, and even if he was sick it wasn’t like him not to at least drop a text to let the others know he wouldn't be in. Rikio had expressed his concern to Tatara, but of course the carefree man had assured him that everything would be fine, and that he shouldn’t worry. Of course, that didn't stop him from worrying anyway. Saruhiko wasn’t there either, though he had been truant increasingly often over the past few weeks, so his absence didn’t seem as pressing. Finally, Rikio decided to drop by Misaki’s apartment to see if he was okay. If he was sick, maybe Rikio could make himself useful. 

When Rikio knocked on his door, there was no answer, and he could see no lights on in any of the windows. Rikio supposed Misaki was probably just busy. Perhaps he was catching up with Saruhiko, after all, they hadn’t been spending much time together since Saruhiko had started disappearing more and more often. Rikio got back on his motorcycle and started making his way back to the bar, unable to completely suppress the gnawing concern in his stomach, and glanced at his phone compulsively at every traffic light to check that Misaki hadn't contacted him. Nothing, every time. 

A flash of red, in the corner of his eye. He turned to peer down the alley where the light had caught his gaze, and saw Misaki leaning against the wall, staring at the concrete opposite, his aura glowing dully around his hands. Rikio pulled up and dismounted the bike, hurrying over to his friend. 

"Yata-san? What are you doing?" 

Misaki looked up slowly, and Rikio hurried over and put his hand on his shoulder. His skin was hot to the touch, as if his aura burned just below his skin. 

"Saruhiko is gone." 

"What?" 

"He left, he joined Sceptre 4, he... he _burned_ his Homra tattoo..." Misaki's eyes were red and swollen, his voice shook, somewhere between rage and sorrow. 

"Come on, let's get out of here." 

He nodded stiffly, allowing Rikio to guide him by the shoulder out of the alleyway towards the bike. For once, Misaki didn't object to sitting on the back; instead of complaining and insisting on holding on to the handles behind the seat as he usually did, he gripped Rikio's waist, and the taller man could have sworn he felt a small damp spot form on the back of his jacket where Misaki's head rested against his shoulder. Rikio drove them to his apartment and led Misaki inside, where Misaki sat heavily on the sofa. Rikio brought a can of beer through from the kitchen for each of them and took a seat beside him. 

Misaki raised his eyebrow. 

“Kusanagi-san gave me a crate for helping him out with something a couple weeks ago. I figured now is as good a time as any to break them out. You could do with a drink by the looks of it.” 

Misaki didn’t question him, cracking open the can and taking a deep swig of the contents, grateful for something that could help him forget. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Rikio watched his friend drink with a concerned crease between his brows. 

“Not really. Jerk insulted our pride, not much else to say.” 

It was obvious that it ran much deeper than that; Rikio had never seen Misaki look so broken about anything before, but he decided not to push it, opting instead to try and take his mind off things. 

“It’s almost dinner time, are you hungry? Let’s order something in, my treat.” 

“Jeez, fatty, is food all you can think about?” There was no malice in Misaki’s voice. 

“You’re a growing teenager, you need to eat.” 

“We’re almost the same age, idiot.” 

Rikio rolled his eyes, biting back a joke about how Misaki still had a lot of growing left to do, figuring that now wasn't the best time. He got up and picked up a few takeout menus, bringing them over to the sofa. “Pick something, whatever you want.” He tossed Misaki the menu. “Oh, and I got that game you were talking about a couple weeks ago, you know the one you said was sold out everywhere? I saw a store that had just gotten a load of new copies in so I picked one up before they all went again.” 

“No way!” Misaki appeared to brighten somewhat at that; it appeared Rikio’s strategy of distracting him was working. They spent the rest of the evening playing it, pausing only when the food they had ordered arrived. Misaki seemed almost back to his usual self after a few hours, though he got progressively worse at the game as the night went on, the alcohol in his system making his thumbs clumsy and slow. When he got to his feet to fetch another drink he swayed for a moment dizzily, then dropped back onto the sofa. 

“You alright Yata-san?” 

“Yeah, fine, just… got up too fast and went all dizzy. Maybe I should get some water.” 

“Let me get it.” Rikio was out of his seat and had returned with a glass of water before Misaki could object. “Are you sure you’re alright?” 

“Why are ya so worried about me?” Misaki mumbled. 

“You always looked out for me when we were kids, stood up for me when I got picked on, of course I’m gonna look out for you when you’re in a rough patch.” Rikio pressed the glass into Yata’s hand. 

“I’m not in a rough patch.” 

“Yata-san, I know that’s not true. You don’t have to keep up the whole tough guy front to me all the time. He’s your best friend.” 

“He’s not my best friend anymore!” He snapped. “You’re my best friend! Maybe he used to be my best friend, maybe he was more than that, but now he’s just a shitty traitor!” The words had flooded out in a great hurry, and when Misaki realised what he had said, he pressed his lips to the rim of the glass as if to shut himself up. His cheeks burned. 

“I didn’t know you swung that way…” Rikio commented, taken aback. 

“Sh-shut up, I meant it as in he was more than my friend because he was… like my brother.” The attempt at a lie was weak, and he set his glass on the coffee table to avoid Rikio's eyes. “Why, is it a problem if I swing that way?” 

“No, of course not! Doesn’t make a difference to me.” 

Misaki sighed. “Even if I did… l-like him… I don’t anymore. He’s a bastard.” 

Rikio nodded in agreement. “Want to do something to get your mind off it?” 

“Like what?” 

“Like… I dunno, go out on the town, pick up a cute rebound girl… guy… whatever it is you’re into. I’ll be your wingman if ya want?” The suggestion was made in a light-hearted tone. 

“Nah… I’m not really into the whole idea of one night stands or anything like that…” His cheeks were still flushed red. 

“That’s fair enough.” 

Misaki sighed. “A-and… it’s guys and girls…” 

“Huh?” 

“As in like… I like ‘em both.” Misaki’s voice was quiet, and distinctly awkward. 

“Oh, right. That’s cool. Thanks for telling me.” 

“Why?” 

“’Cause it means you trust me enough to know.” He said simply. 

Misaki’s blush deepened. “W-well, thanks for being cool with it. And don’t tell anyone.” He added hurriedly. 

“I won’t.” Rikio laid his hand on Misaki’s shoulder gently. “Yata-san, you deserve better than that jerk. You’re a great guy, and you’re really strong and you’re loyal to the people you care about.” There was a genuine look in Rikio’s eyes that made Misaki feel almost bashful. “If he can’t see that then you don’t need him.” 

Misaki wasn’t sure why he reacted to that how he did. Maybe it was the warm fog of alcohol in his head, or maybe it was the ache of losing his best friend, but the comforting hand on his shoulder, the sincerity in Rikio’s voice as he had looked at Misaki like he was the most important person in the world… 

Misaki found his lips pressed to Rikio’s, not quite knowing who had initiated the kiss. He did know, however, that the way Rikio’s arms slipped around his waist noticeably soothed the still-raw pain of losing his friend, and the earnestness of his words provided a measure of relief from the harsh, cruel ones that had been spoken to him earlier that day. Misaki found himself gripping the back of Rikio’s shirt, his hands trembling, pressing closer to him. Shouldn’t this be what having a crush should be like? Rather than the pain that Saruhiko had caused him? 

Misaki found that his cheeks were damp, and Rikio pulled away as soon as he noticed. 

"Yata-san..?" 

Misaki hurriedly wiped his eyes in a vain attempt to hide his tears. "S-sorry..." 

"No, don't be, I shouldn't have..." 

"No, it's not about that." He interrupted, then sighed. "It's just... I never even thought about doing anything like... _that_ with you before... n-no offence!" 

Rikio nodded his understanding. 

"He was such a jerk to me, but I still thought about him like that, and now I don't even know _why_ because that was... this is so much..." His lips hung open as he searched for the word, then he gave up and sighed again, his cheeks blazing. 

"Better?" 

Misaki gave a little nod. 

"You deserve better." 

Misaki knew exactly who it was that initiated the kiss this time. He gripped Rikio's hair, crushing their lips harder together. Rikio made a soft sound of surprise and put up his hands to push Misaki away, but at the almost imperative kiss, he found himself drawing him closer, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him in, lifting the shorter man onto his lap. Rikio gripped the back of his shirt, his lips parting against the forcefulness of Misaki's. When the kiss finally broke, they stared at each other for a moment through half-lidded eyes, breathing heavily. Maybe it was the alcohol that had clouded the inside of his skull, but Misaki had never seen anyone look at him the way Rikio was in that moment, as if he was the only thing in the world that mattered. There was a small smile on his lips, and Misaki couldn't help but kiss them again. Rikio's hands slid down his back, coming to rest on his ass, and Misaki gasped in surprise as his fingers squeezed gently, a soft moan hitching out of his throat. At the sound, a shiver ran down Rikio's spine, and he tugged Misaki's shirt over his head, moving his lips down to his throat. 

"W-wait..." Misaki's cheeks burned. Rikio pulled away instantly. "Don't you have a girlfriend?" 

"Ayumi? No, it's just a running joke of hers." 

"G-good..." 

Rikio slowly pressed his lips to Misaki's jaw again, moving hesitantly to give him a chance to stop him if he wanted. Evidently, he didn't, lifting his chin to give Rikio better access to his throat, gasping as his stubble tickled the sensitive skin. Rikio kissed down his neck gently, then sucked on the Homra insignia on his collarbone, and Misaki gasped softly, obviously unused to this kind of contact. 

“Have you ever done this before?” Rikio made sure that his tone was as gentle as possible as not to offend him. 

“N-not with a man.” _Or with anyone._ Misaki chose not to mention that. 

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Rikio looked up at him. 

Misaki’s cheeks burned even darker, and he answered Rikio with another deep and somewhat clumsy kiss. Rikio couldn’t help but smile at how oddly cute his inexperience was. When the kiss broke, Rikio moved his mouth back down to his collarbone and murmured: “I haven’t done this with a guy before either." Goosebumps rose across Misaki's skin at the feeling of his warm breath tickling his shoulder. 

Misaki nodded, unsure of what to say to that, and swallowed nervously as Rikio unfastened his fly and slid his hand into his shorts to cup the bulge in his underwear. _So we’re actually gonna do this, huh?_ He wasn’t sure how he felt about losing his virginity like this, on his _male_ best friend’s sofa, tipsy and grieving, but the caring, almost affectionate way that Rikio sucked on his collarbone, the way he looked at him, the way he kissed him… it felt too good to stop. The pleasure, and the feeling of being wanted by someone he valued took his mind off the pain, took the edge off it. 

Misaki tugged at the hem of Rikio’s shirt, and he made a sound of protest. 

“What’s the problem? I-I’ve got my shirt off haven’t I?” he asked impatiently. 

“I’d rather keep it on…” 

“Dumbass, you think I’m gonna be grossed out ‘cause you’ve got a bit of a spare tyre?” Misaki clicked his tongue and pulled at the fabric again. “I prefer you like this anyway… ‘s more you.” He mumbled.  
Rikio gave a little nod, and Misaki slid the shirt off over his head, then took a deep breath and pressed his lips tentatively to Rikio’s chest, just below his collarbone, then kept kissing down, moaning softly as Rikio's hand still rubbed him gently through his boxers. He trailed kisses down Rikio’s chest, over his belly, then climbed out of his lap to kneel between his legs and started fumbling with the tie in the waistband of his jogging trousers with shaking hands. His breath was shallow with nerves, and his cheeks blazed bright pink. 

“Yata-san… you don’t have to…” 

“S-shut up.” Misaki finally got the knot undone and pulled down the waistband of his trousers and underwear to free his cock, then licked at the tip experimentally. Rikio drew in a sharp intake of breath, and Misaki wrapped his lips slowly around the head, encouraged by the quiet noises escaping his friend’s lips. He slid his head further down as Rikio’s fingers tangled in his hair, and shivered as he breathed his name. 

"Misaki..." It was odd for him to hear someone call him by his first name without a mocking tone. 

After a few minutes Misaki felt Rikio pull him up again by his arm, and somewhat reluctantly lifted his head off his cock and stood him up. Rikio tugged off his shorts and underwear in one swift movement, then pulled his now naked friend back down to straddle his lap. Rikio kissed him again, more freely this time, his tongue slipping forward past his lips as his hand reached between them to grasp their cocks and begin to pump them slowly. Misaki gasped into the kiss, his hips bucking involuntarily into Rikio’s hand. He had completely forgotten Saruhiko now, forgotten the still-raw pain of his betrayal. There was nothing else now but the warmth of Rikio’s hand on the small of his back, holding him close, the softness of his lips, the sound of his low, quiet moans, the delicious friction… 

“I-If you keep doing that, I’ll…” Misaki mumbled into his shoulder, and Rikio slowed the movement of his hand. 

“W-when are we gonna… ya know…” 

Rikio tilted his head and looked at him in confusion. 

“Are you going to… p-put it in? Isn’t that what happens when a guy does it with another guy?” 

“It doesn’t have to be, unless you want it to.” 

Misaki nodded stiffly, and Rikio felt a jolt of arousal run down his spine at the prospect of doing that with his best friend. He lifted Misaki off his lap and set him on the sofa beside him. 

“I’ll go grab the stuff, hang on.” He hurried into his room and returned with a bottle of lube and a condom, biting his lip when he saw Misaki with his hand on his cock, teasing himself as he waited for him. Rikio sat on the sofa and pulled him back into his lap, his hands suddenly trembling with anxiety. He fumbled with the bottle of lube, taking a moment to get it open, then poured some onto his fingers. Misaki gasped, twitching away from his hand as Rikio gently began to rub the lubricant onto him. 

“You alright?” 

“It’s cold…” He grumbled. 

Rikio chuckled at his bashful expression, and Misaki hid his face in his shoulder as Rikio’s finger began to move again, circling the entrance teasingly before gently pressing the tip inside. 

“Relax, Yata-san…” 

Rikio wrapped his hand around Misaki’s cock again and started stroking him slowly, and Misaki began to relax, letting out an involuntary moan as Rikio’s finger pressed deeper into him. Rikio began to thrust the digit slowly, in time with the movement of his hand, and eventually his friend began to melt against him, struggling to stifle the moans rising in his throat as his hips started rocking back and forth between Rikio’s hand and his finger. Rikio pushed a second inside him, and Misaki tensed in surprise, then hissed through his teeth. Rikio stopped moving his fingers for a moment. 

“Are you okay, Yata-san?” 

"Fine." He insisted. 

"If it hurts, tell me." 

He nodded. "A little." 

"You have to stay relaxed." 

Misaki nodded once more, then forced himself to relax around him. The stinging quickly turned back to pleasure and he rolled his hips back, pushing the digits knuckle-deep. 

"Better?" 

“M-much…” The word was half-moaned in a way that made Rikio shiver. Misaki’s mouth had latched on to the junction between his neck and shoulder and he sucked and lapped at the tanned skin, as though trying to muffle his moans. The soft gasps of pleasure escaping Rikio’s lips seemed to encourage Misaki even further, as his hand slid between them to wrap hesitantly around Rikio’s cock. Rikio bit his lip, his head falling back against the sofa, eyes half-closed. Impatient, Misaki reached for the foil package and tore it open clumsily, taking a moment to work out whether it was the right way in, then rolled it onto Rikio’s cock. Rikio looked down at him in surprise at his forwardness. 

“You ready?” He asked. 

Misaki tried to hide the enthusiasm in his nod, but was only somewhat successful. Rikio gently slid his fingers out of him, and Misaki moaned involuntarily. Rikio gently pushed him back so that he couldn’t hide his face in his shoulder anymore and met his eyes. Both of them were panting heavily, their cheeks flushed from a combination of arousal, alcohol and shyness. Misaki moved his hips and gripped Rikio’s cock, pressing the head to his entrance. 

Rikio stared, lips parted, at the man straddling him. He never thought he’d find himself in this position, not with Misaki. He had always passed off his feelings for his friend as nothing more than the childish admiration it was normal to have for your best friend, especially the best friend who had stood up for him so many times when they were kids. A little, fluffy, meaningless crush. He knew now that he had been wrong, as he watched Misaki, after a few clumsy unsuccessful attempts, finally push his cock inside him, saw his mouth fall open with a groan of shocked pleasure, felt the tight heat of his body as he slowly rocked his hips to push himself inside. He couldn’t help but lean up and kiss him deeply, cupping his jaw with one hand and wrapping the other around his cock. 

He had expected Misaki to be much more reserved. But it seemed that as soon as they had gotten going, he had gone from stifling his moans and hiding his face to riding Rikio enthusiastically, the grunted expletives and the gasps of: “K-Kamamoto!” coming much more freely. Their foreheads were pressed against each other, their lips catching together in heated kisses between moans and whispered demands of “harder!” and “faster!” and “there!” 

“Yata-san…” Rikio’s voice was husky; they had barely been going a few minutes but he was already close. He had never felt this good before, and the half-growled curses issuing from Misaki’s throat weren’t making it any easier. His vision was blurring. Rikio had just opened his mouth to ask Misaki to slow down a bit so he could make this last a little longer, when the angle of Misaki’s hips altered and he cried out in pleasure, his eyes rolling back as he thrust downwards to press Rikio’s cock harder against his sweet spot. He came suddenly, and Rikio could do nothing but follow quickly after, powerless to stop himself as Misaki tightened around him, hissing his name as his cum splattered Rikio’s chest and dripped through his fingers. Rikio pressed their lips together desperately as they rode out their orgasms, a few last, satisfied noises humming in their throats. 

After a moment, Misaki shakily lifted himself off his friend, then collapsed on the sofa beside him, panting hard, a sheen of sweat on his chest and a deep blush still colouring his cheeks. Rikio smiled softly at him, and Misaki gave a tired, somewhat bashful grin in return. Rikio then got to his feet. 

“Gonna go clean up.” He explained, his voice quiet with a sudden wave of bashfulness, and Misaki nodded, still breathless. He returned after a few moments having put on his pyjama bottoms, and found that Misaki had moved from his spread-eagle position to sit slightly more modestly on the sofa, though he hadn’t put his clothes back on, and his breathing was still a little heavier than usual. 

“Want to stay here tonight?” Rikio asked, and Misaki nodded stiffly, beginning to seize up in his shyness again now that the moment of passion was over. 

“Mind if I use your shower?” He mumbled the request. 

“Of course.” 

“Thanks.” Misaki stood up, but his knees shook under his weight and he almost stumbled. 

Rikio caught him by the arm and steadied him, a look of concern on his face. “You okay?” 

“Fine, fine…” 

“Got jelly legs, huh?” 

“Shut up…” Misaki grumbled. 

Rikio chuckled and mussed his hair affectionately. “You were pretty good, ya know…. Really good…” He couldn’t quite keep the awkwardness out of his voice at the confession, and he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. At the mortified look on Misaki’s face and the way he grumbled incoherently in response, the little more-than-a-crush that had been growing inside him stirred. _Damn, he's cute._

“And you’re hot, so don’t let it get to you when Fushimi picks on you for being short or whatever." His voice became serious. "I wouldn’t change a thing.” 

“S-stop being so damn corny.” 

Rikio cupped his chin again, smiling slightly at Misaki’s surprised expression and kissed him again, this time warmly, with no trace of the lust that had coloured their earlier kisses. Misaki sank into the warmth of his embrace as Rikio’s arm slipped around his waist, forgetting his state of undress for a moment. This was… _nice._ The affection that Rikio showed for him, the way he felt safe with him in a way that he never really had with Saruhiko. The thought of his ex-friend still brought a sharp pang of discomfort that caught him off guard, but the pain dulled quicker when it was battling the feeling of being cared about that came from the gentle warmth of Rikio’s lips against his own. The kiss broke after a moment that felt far longer than it actually was, and Misaki found himself stealing another quick peck on the lips before dropping down off his tiptoes. When Rikio smiled at him, his cheeks burned, and he found himself suddenly overwhelmed by embarrassment. 

“I-I need to go shower.” 

“Go on then. There’s a spare towel in the cupboard under the sink.” 

Misaki hurried into the bathroom and turned the water temperature up until it was just about as hot as he could bear it. He washed himself quickly, then just stood for a long while, staring at the tiles on the wall with the water running down his shoulders as the gravity of everything that had happened that day began to slowly sink in. 

That morning had been like any other. And now... Saruhiko was gone, and he had just lost his virginity to Rikio. The warm fog that the alcohol had left in his head was beginning to clear and the weight of it all was beginning to make an impression. Everything would be different now. 

Did this mean he fancied Rikio now, not Saruhiko? No, that was dumb. Feelings don’t just change like that in a day, if he even did fancy Saruhiko in the first place. They were best friends, almost brothers, and he had been the only person Saruhiko had ever really confided in. He did have the occasional intrusive thought about kissing him, but… 

_Yeah, alright. I had a crush on him._ There was no point in pretending he was straight now, not after that. But he couldn't really say he fancied Saruhiko anymore. Of course, something like love doesn’t go away just like that, but the sting in his chest that accompanied the mere thought of him was enough to suppress the errant thoughts about holding his hand that used to rear their heads on a regular basis. Saruhiko had betrayed him, betrayed Homra, and he couldn’t love someone like that. The stinging would fade eventually, and then the embarrassing little flutters in his chest that had arisen whenever he had gotten too close to Saruhiko would be nothing more than a memory. 

But did he have those kinds of feelings for Rikio? Well he’d never had them before, but after this he wasn’t so sure. It wasn’t the same kind of thing he had felt for Saruhiko, not necessarily better or worse, just… different. Having someone be so openly affectionate with him was a blessing, especially at a time like this, when he felt so unwanted… 

A knot of guilt twisted in his stomach. Was he using Rikio as a rebound guy? Even as oblivious as Misaki was, even he could tell that that wasn’t just sex for his friend. People don’t kiss people like that when they’re only interested in sex. But, Misaki had kissed back, hadn’t he? Because he liked the comfort. He liked that it stopped the pain. 

He didn’t know how he felt about Rikio; of course he loved him as his best friend, but was it anything more than that? He couldn’t trust his judgement, not with the kind of infatuation he was feeling now, after spending the last half an hour making out with him, having sex with him. It would probably vanish by morning, right? 

He didn’t know if he wanted it to. 

But regardless of all that, he still at least had the self-awareness to know that it was shitty of him to go ahead with that when Rikio was so obviously more invested than him. The last thing he wanted to do now was hurt the closest friend he had left. He wanted more of that comfort, more of the relief that came from spending time with someone who cared about him, but that was selfish. A part of him felt like maybe his selfishness had been part of the reason Saruhiko had left, if not a conscious part. And he was afraid of losing Rikio too. 

He noticed his eyes stinging and wiped them hastily with the heel of his hand, not that it would have made much difference in under the jet of water. He had lost track of how long he had been standing there when Rikio knocked on the door. 

“You okay Yata-san?” 

Misaki shut off the water. “I’m fine,” he called, and towelled himself off quickly, shaking his head in a vain attempt to clear the sobering thoughts. He tried to make his way through to Rikio’s bedroom without being noticed, but Rikio was waiting for him as he stepped out the door. 

“You sure you’re okay?” 

“Yeah, just... alcohol makes me tired.” The lie was clumsy, but Rikio chose not to question him. 

“Alright, you get some sleep then. I’ll be through when I’ve had a shower and tidied up a bit.” 

Misaki nodded and retrieved his clothes, then shut himself in the bedroom to pull on his boxers and get into bed. He felt his exhaustion dragging at him, but sleep wouldn’t come. It felt like hours before Rikio finally got in beside him. His friend dozed off instantly while Misaki pretended to sleep, but as soon as he had begun snoring softly, Misaki resumed staring at the ceiling, his jumbled thoughts spinning dizzily behind his open eyes. The hours seemed to stretch painfully, and the sound of Rikio’s slow breathing seemed unnaturally loud against the silence of the room. It grated on him that he could be so peaceful when everything in Misaki’s world had been tossed into the air in less than a day. He just wanted things to be easy again. He glanced over at Rikio to see the peaceful expression on his face. Their hands were just about touching, barely a hair’s breadth apart, and Misaki could feel the warmth emanating from Rikio’s palm onto his fingers, and a quiet thought whispered to him that he should take that hand in his, hold it. Perhaps it would help him sleep. 

Misaki shook his head. Leading Rikio on was the last thing he wanted to do; even if being around him made him feel better, it would only make things worse in the long run. Rikio didn't deserve that. Misaki sighed and rolled off the bed, dressed as quietly as he could, and cast one final look at his friend, and slipped out.


	2. Regret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story can also be found on [Tumblr.](http://mistleto-3.tumblr.com/post/143025297279/better)

When Rikio woke up, the sheets on the side of the bed where Misaki had lain the night before were cold. He sat up and rubbed sleep from his eye, a crease folding between his brows at the empty space beside him. Wondering if Misaki had just woken up and gone to get some food, or to the bathroom or something, he swung his feet out of the bed and padded out into the living room, calling out: “Yata-san? You up?”

Silence. His clothes were gone, as were the rest of his things, and Rikio couldn’t see a note anywhere. He hadn’t had a text from Misaki either. His frown deepened, and his thoughts leapt straight to worrying if Misaki was okay. He dialled his friend’s number, chewing his lip as he lifted the phone to his ear. It rang twice, then went to answer phone, and Rikio felt deflated. Why had Misaki hung up on him? Had he done something wrong? Had he pushed Misaki too far too quickly? Had Misaki hated last night, did he regret what they’d done?

Rikio gathered himself, trying to rein in the fear that had suddenly kindled in his stomach. It was entirely possible that Misaki was just processing everything, and he needed some time to himself. Of course he would be confused; in the space of a day, one of his best friends had betrayed him, and he’d had drunken sex with his other best friend on his couch. If he just needed space, Rikio would give it to him. Even if he didn’t necessarily want to.  

* * *

 

It had been five days since he’d decided to leave Misaki alone, and there was still no sign of him. He hadn’t been in to Bar Homra, hadn’t spoken to anyone, hadn’t so much as dropped anybody a text. Even Tatara was beginning to worry. Rikio had told them all that Misaki was okay; he’d seen him the day Saruhiko left, and he just needed some time to himself (of course, he’d left out a fair amount of the details). But as the days went by without so much as a word from his friend, Rikio began to lose faith in his own reassurances. Misaki wasn’t a depressive person; he wasn’t the type to shut himself away and wallow in his own misery. Rikio didn’t understand it; Misaki had seemed to be cheering up when they were drinking together. Why had he suddenly reverted to cutting himself off?

Rikio felt an uncomfortable twinge of guilt in his gut. The obvious thing that had happened between the drinking and the gaming, and Misaki shutting himself away, was that they’d had sex. But Misaki had seemed to want it- he had kissed Rikio first. Surely Rikio hadn’t pressured him into doing anything he wasn’t ready for? The idea of it made him feel sick, and he quickly pushed it out of his head; the last thing he wanted to do was hurt his friend. Rikio shouldn’t have had sex with him; in hindsight that much was obvious. Misaki was hurting and confused, and although Rikio knew he hadn’t purposely taken advantage of him, he still felt scummy for not considering the possible consequences of allowing it to happen. Misaki was drunk, and he was grieving. Of course he hadn’t been thinking straight. But Rikio had allowed himself to get caught up in the moment. Misaki had been his friend longer than anyone else, he had stood up for him, they had fought side-by-side, they had spent so much time just hanging out together… and truth be told Rikio was sort of in love with him. He couldn’t say no to the friend he’d cared for so deeply for so long, not when Misaki had kissed him first.

There were no two ways around it in Rikio’s mind; he had to be at least partly responsible for Misaki shutting himself away. And that meant he had a responsibility to him to try and fix it, or at the very least, apologise to him. So when Izumo brought up Misaki’s continued absence, Rikio offered to go and check on him. A knot coiled in his stomach at the fear of finding out exactly how much damage he’d done.

* * *

 

His chest felt tight as he knocked on the door to Misaki’s apartment, and every second of silence that followed was drawn out painfully, until finally the chain rattled and the door opened by a crack. It was only then that Rikio realised he hadn’t planned what he was going to say. Thankfully, Misaki spoke first.

“Kamamoto…” Misaki seemed lost for how to respond for a moment, then simply said: “Come in.” His voice was flat.

Rikio nodded and entered the apartment. The room was dim; the curtains were drawn, and the only light was the bluish glow of the television screen. A few half-empty takeout boxes were piled up on the counter beside the bin, which was too full to fit them, and dirty dishes were stacked in the sink. The door to the bedroom was half-open, and through it Rikio could see a few discarded garments in crumpled piles on the carpet. Misaki wasn’t in a much better state; his clothes were crumpled, and his hair was greasy and stuck up at awkward angles. There were deep shadows under his eyes.

“Yata-san, living like this isn’t going to help you feel any better.” Rikio chided gently, though it was clear that laziness wasn’t the culprit for the untidy state of the room.  “Go take a hot shower and brush your teeth and stuff, it’ll make you feel better.”

Misaki didn’t protest, and he padded off to the bathroom without a word. His behaviour was deeply disturbing to Rikio; he’d never seen his friend like this before. Usually, when Misaki was upset about something, it manifested itself in fire. He would work himself up into a fury before he allowed any sadness to show. And even when Misaki did get upset, he would at least show _some_ emotion. He would cry, he would swear, he would shake. Misaki was a passionate person, and to see him so utterly bleak… Exactly how badly had Saruhiko’s betrayal hurt him? How badly had Rikio hurt him?

Rikio cleaned as he worried, gathering up the dirty clothes into the laundry basket and changing the sheets on Misaki’s bed, then he returned to the kitchen to wash the dishes and empty the overflowing bin. He opened all of the curtains, then all of the windows to ward off the darkness and the stale smell that had accumulated in the apartment.

When Misaki emerged from the bathroom, a cloud of steam billowed out of the door behind him. His damp hair dripped onto his bare back, which was flushed an angry red from the hot water, and Rikio frowned as he watched him hurry into his room to throw some clothes on. When Misaki returned, Rikio had taken a seat on the sofa, and was wringing his hands anxiously. Misaki sat beside him, careful to leave enough space between the two of them. There was another moment of anxious silence, as Rikio frantically searched for something to say.  

Once again, Misaki saved him by speaking first. “You didn’t need to clean up after me or anything you know.”

“I know, but like I said, living in a messy apartment isn’t going to help you feel any better. Everyone’s worried about you; we all want you to feel better as soon as possible.”

“Stop acting so fucking concerned about me!” Misaki snapped, the volume sharp against the quite it had shattered. Rikio couldn’t help but jump, and he felt something in his chest begin to deflate. Maybe Misaki did think Rikio had taken advantage of him after all.

There was a pause as Misaki took a breath to steady himself, then continued, his voice tense and trembling faintly. “When you’re being so freaking understanding about everything it’s really hard to…” His mouth hung open, his lips twitching as he struggled to put his thoughts into words. “Everything’s confusing enough without me suddenly getting a crush on you on top of everything that’s going on like some kind of moron, and part of the reason I’ve got this dumb crush in the first place because you’re so freaking nice to me all the time and you treat me like…!” He paused again. “You look out for me without even expecting anything in return. Let’s face it, I’ve sort of ignored you for Saruhiko, and been just a really shit friend and you still gave up your evening to make you feel better when he abandoned me and how do I fucking repay you? By using you as a rebound.”

Rikio blinked in surprise.

Misaki kept speaking; the stopper had come loose and everything that he’d obviously been bottling up for the past five days came tumbling out in a hurried mess. There was a bitterness to his tone as he spoke. “And I fucking hate myself for it, you know? Cause you’ve been nothing but kind to me and I go and fucking do that! I _knew_ I wasn’t ready to move on; Saruhiko’s still an open wound and we weren’t even freaking dating! But it just felt… right. Felt _better,_ like this could be something good, and then I realised afterwards that maybe I was just drunk or maybe I was just infatuated with you because you’re so annoyingly nice to me even though I don’t deserve it, and I didn’t want to lead you on but now I don’t know if it would have been leading you on because dammit I want more of that! I don’t have this stupid crush just because you were there and I needed a good lay to take my mind off things, I have it because it’s _you.”_ He took a deep breath, the flow of words slowing, the shaking of his voice becoming more pronounced. “You’ve always been there for me and I didn’t even see it before and I’m sorry for toying with you like a complete jerk and I promise I didn’t mean to use you and take you for granted.” Rikio thought he saw the light catch on a tear in Misaki’s eye. “You’re my best friend, and now I’ve had time to think about it I don’t think it was just because I was drunk or infatuated or upset and you were there, it was because it was you. It was you all along and I just never noticed because I was too wrapped up in Homra and Saruhiko to notice everything you did for me. I never got the chance to tell him how important he was and maybe if I had, things would have been different. I’m not going to make that mistake again, but I’m sort of glad it happened in a way, even though it still fucking hurts I might never have figured out what I felt if it weren’t for the other night. I want better than him; I want you. Hell, I feel _more_ that way about you than I ever did with him; he was always so difficult and tetchy and closed off and being with you is so much easier and so much better because you’re not always snippy with me and you don’t pick on me and you look out for me and I really do want you to be more than my best friend… I just… I don’t know if I’m ready…”

Seeing Misaki like this was odd for Rikio; Misaki had never been the type to come out and say what he was feeling so candidly, not when it was something as personal as this. His eyes were fixed on the carpet, and he had one arm folded across his chest. Rikio didn’t think he’d ever seen him look vulnerable like this before. He didn’t know whether to feel touched that Misaki was willing to open up to him, or guilty that it was him that put Misaki in this state in the first place.

It took a moment for what he’d actually said to sink in. _I really do want you to be more than just my best friend._ Rikio had been convinced Misaki would hate him; it hadn’t even crossed his mind to hope that Misaki might feel the same way as he did.  

“I’ll wait.” Rikio’s voice was gentle.

“W-what?”

“If you’re not ready, I won’t push you. You need to heal, and until then, I’ll wait.”

“I don’t deserve you…” Misaki said quietly.

“I know you weren’t just using me as a rebound; I know you wouldn’t do that. Of course you’d be confused after a day like that, when so much happened at once. If anything, I thought I was the one who used you. I knew you weren’t in a good place, but I couldn’t tell you no... I didn’t think I’d get another chance to be with you like that. I didn’t think you’d ever like me back.”

Misaki punched him on the arm. “Stop being so freakin’ self-deprecating. _I_ kissed _you_ ; of course you didn’t use me.” He sighed. “It’s not like I regret doing it…”

“I was worried I’d hurt you when you disappeared.”

“Sorry… just didn’t want to lead you on.”

“I understand. And don’t tell me not to be self-deprecating when you’re doing it yourself.” He chided gently. “You’re not undeserving. I meant it when I said you’re a good guy. You’re brave and passionate and you stick your neck out for other people even though you don’t need to and you’re really handsome and kind of cute…”

“O-oi!” Misaki protested. “Cut that gooey crap out.”

Rikio smiled sheepishly, watching a blush spread across Misaki’s cheeks as he stared at his shoelaces.

“You’ll really wait for me?” He asked quietly.

“You’re worth waiting for.”

Misaki punched him gently on the arm again. “I-I said cut the gooey crap.”

Rikio chuckled, but the sound was cut off when Misaki suddenly leaned up to steal a quick kiss. Rikio blinked in shock.

“One for the road.” Misaki grumbled, by way of explanation, and Rikio couldn’t stop his grin widening.  

* * *

 

For a while after that day, they balanced in a sort of in-between space. Not quite lovers, but more than friends. They walked a little closer together than they did before; occasionally the backs of their hands would brush together and a static shock would prickle between them at the slight contact that would raise the hair on their arms. From time to time they would catch each other staring, and their gazes would click together and stay like that for a heartbeat longer than necessary before they both looked away, a faint blush colouring their cheeks, and the whisper of a smile curling up the corners of their lips. When Misaki was having a rough day, he’d turn up at Rikio’s apartment and Rikio would listen to him as he ranted to let him get it all out, until finally the anger that Misaki buried his pain under had dissipated, and he finally let himself cry. Rikio would pull him in close and kiss the top of his head as Misaki hid his face in his shoulder as the sobs tore through him. When the crying slowed and Misaki’s ragged breathing steadied, Rikio would put on a light-hearted movie, and Misaki would lean against him as they sat on the threadbare couch with a tub of ice cream between them and forgot about everything else outside the walls of that room. With every week that passed, Rikio could see his friend getting better. The breakdowns became less frequent, he wasn’t as angry all the time, and he stopped flinching at the mention of Saruhiko’s name. He had returned to his usual energetic self, and much to Rikio’s relief the spell of subdued depression that had frightened him so much came to an end fairly briskly. Misaki was a fiery person; his happiness was bright and his anger tempestuous, and to see him so utterly destroyed by something that it had made him dull and lifeless had broken Rikio’s heart to watch. Seeing that grin return to his face had been a relief.

Things continued like that for just over a month, until Rikio’s phone rang one morning. The number that lit up the screen was Misaki’s. When Rikio answered, the voice on the other end of the line was jittery with nerves; Rikio could almost hear him licking his lips in anxiety.  

“H-hey, Kamamoto… I was wondering if uh… are you free this afternoon?”

“Yeah, I’ve got nothing planned, why?”

“I thought… maybe we could… I dunno,” the end of the sentence spilled out in a hurry, “go get coffee together or something?” Rikio could tell by the sound of Misaki’s voice that this wasn’t just coffee; his tone was thick with awkwardness, and Rikio recognised it as the voice in which he spoke to women. He could almost see the blush that was definitely staining his friend’s cheeks on the other end of the line.

“Sure, I’d like that.”

“Great.” Misaki almost squeaked the word, then cleared his throat self-consciously. “Meet you outside the bar at 4?”

“I’ll be there.” Rikio promised, and Misaki hung up the line. It wasn’t until he heard the dial tone that it really hit him. _Yata just asked me on a date._

Rikio never really understood what people had meant when they talked about butterflies in their stomach before, but he figured it out pretty quickly; the swelling excitement and fluttering nervousness in his gut certainly combined in an odd sensation. He couldn’t keep still as he deliberated over what to wear, his fingers drumming nervously on every nearby surface. On some level, he knew it was silly of him to worry; he saw Misaki every day, they were best friends, they’d had _sex_ for crying out loud, why was he agonising over what to wear to a coffee date? It wasn’t like he hadn’t had time to prepare for it either. It had been over a month passing since Misaki had first admitted he had feelings for him, and during that time they’d been practically dating anyway. Still, he couldn’t help but fret over it, and in his fretting he developed a lot more sympathy for Misaki. He was a bashful guy; it must have been torture to make that phone call, make the first move.

Rikio’s heartbeat hadn’t slowed down any by the time he stood by the door of his apartment, straightening his collar as he prepared to leave. If anything, it was had gotten faster. His hands were shaking as he mounted his motorcycle, and he twisted the throttle a little too enthusiastically as he pulled off. The revving of the engine startled the cat that had been dozing on the roof of a nearby car and sent it darting into the shadows.

When Rikio arrived at the bar, Misaki was already there, leaning against the wall. He’d clearly put in just as much effort as Rikio picking something out to wear, dressed in a black polo shirt that clung just tightly enough to his frame to subtly emphasise the muscle beneath the fabric, and a pair of jeans, rather than his usual shorts and t-shirt. When he got close enough, Rikio caught a faint whiff of the aftershave he’d bought Misaki last Christmas.

“K-Kamamoto!” Misaki called in greeting, a shy grin lighting up his face, and Rikio found himself grinning back.

“Ready to go?”

“Mm.” Misaki nodded, his cheeks flushed faintly pink as the pair started walking. Their fingers brushed together again and it felt as though a little arc of static passed between their skin. Rikio went to pull his away as he usually did, but Misaki’s hand caught his before he had a chance to, clumsily tangling their fingers in his hurry to stop him. Misaki’s palm was slightly clammy, but warm in Rikio’s. He squeezed it tighter, looking down at Misaki with a small smile to see him staring at the concrete beneath their shoes in embarrassment, but the corners of his friend’s lips curled upwards faintly. Though perhaps friend was the wrong word now; this was definitely the start of something more than friendship. Something even better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The other fics in this series are all standalone stories, but continue in this universe as their relationship develops ^^


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